A Real Miracle
by finnhockey13
Summary: [Miracle] What happens when you bring guys in from seven different colleges around the EasternCentral United States? This!
1. Chapter 1: The White Flyers

_Hey everyone! This is my first Miracle fan fiction. I'd really appreciate it if everyone took the time to reveiw. Thank you, and enjoy the story!_

_This takes place a week before it's time to leave for Tryouts. _

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* * *

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**Jack O'Callahan**

I looked over the flyer Rizzo had given me, the one about the US Hockey team tryouts. The bold letter, "U.S. Olympic Hockey" stood out among all the others on the sheet of paper. I sighed and put the paper off to the side. Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes and shook my head.

"Still looking at that flyer, OC?" I opened my eyes and turned to where the voice had come from. Rizzo stood in the doorway, grinning his head off. "Oi, Rizzo. Sneak up on a guy," I grinned, "yeah, I'm still looking at it."

"Are you going to do it?" Rizzo asked, sitting down across from me. I shrugged. "Dunno. Probably." Rizzo rolled his eyes at me. "Decide soon. Only one week left until the tryouts.

"A'ight! I guess I'm going," I said, throwing my hands over my head in surrender. Rizzo laughed. "Good. Cause even if you said no, you'd be forced to come!" I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? How so?"

"Me, Jimmy, and Silky'd have to come and stuff you in a hockey bag and send you by FedEx," said Rizzo seriously before laughing.

"Oi Rizzo. I swear, you'd never do it," I said crossing my arms. Rizzo grinned mischievously. "Oh yeah?" I nodded. "Yeah. For one, I'd kick all of your guy's asses before you could get me in the bag. Two, Jimmy's out of it; he's always in his room. You'd probably do it if you got help, but then again you might not if you don't get it. And Silky… well, I don't know about him. But he wouldn't do it!"

Rizzo shook his head and stood up. "We'd have to drug you. I gotta go get us some plane tickets, though. See you OC!" He walked out of the room, leaving me –for once in my life- speechless as I watched him walk out.

I shook my head and picked up the flyer again. Glancing over it from the AHA symbol at the top to the dates of tryouts on the bottom; "June 10-17th." I sighed and rolled the flyer up in my hand. Leaning back in my chair, I closed my head and fell asleep.

* * *

**Mark Johnson**

"Hey Mark! Over here!" I heard as I stepped into the dimly-lit bar. I looked over towards a table and saw Bob Suter sitting down with his brother John. "Hey boys!" I grinned and sat down at the table.

"Oi! Mark's finally gonna come outta his shell and get a drink," Bob said, ruffling my hair like a little kid. I shoved his hand away and poured myself a glass from the pitcher. "Yeah, I know. Little Marky's out!"

John laughed. "So. Everyone's heard about the flyer you got in the mail." I shrugged. "So? What about it?"

"So! So are you going for it?" I took a swig of my drink. The white flyer had come in the mail a couple of weeks ago. It'd kept me awake thinking about it ever since. "I don't know…"

Bob rolled his eyes. "Come on, Johnson. Everyone knows you're going to sweep those dumbasses off their feet!" I sighed and shook my head. "That's not the point. All of us saw the Olympic teams a few years ago. I play like shit compared to them!"

"How do you know? Have you ever played them?" I made a face at him and took another drink. "I just know a'ight?" John threw a napkin at me. "Just do it, Johnson. You're the best damn player here at the University of Wisconsin, and in the NCAA. Why don't you go for it?"

I put my glass down and shook my head at them. "I guess I don't have a choice, do I?" Bob grinned, "Like hell you do!"

"Waitress! Bring us another pitcher! Johnson's going to Minnesota!" John yelled as he punched me in the shoulder. "Here we go," I mumbled to myself as another group of Wisconsin players walked in.

"Hey boys! Johnson's going to the Olympics!"

* * *

**Rob McClannahan**

"Rob!" Yelled Buzz as we skated down the rink. I flicked the puck over to him and broke away to the net. Taking the pass from him, I slipped it past goalie Janaszak. "Woo!"

_'Tweet!'_ Coach blew the whistle. "Okay boys, we're done here! Rest up!" We skated off the ice to the locker room.

"Hey Mac! Thinking about that flyer I gave you?" Called out Buzz. I sat on the bench and took off my helmet. "Yeah, I've been going over it." Phil Verchota tugged off his jersey and tossed it over my head. "So you're doing it with us, right?"

I yanked the jersey off my head and threw it back to him. "I dunno," I said shrugging. A chorus of 'Come on!' and 'Oh my god, Mac!' shot back at me. I took off my jersey and my shoulder pads. "Oy, you guys! Why should I do it?"

Janaszak stared at me in disbelief. "Cause, this is probably a once in a lifetime chance, Mac. Why would you miss it?" I shrugged, "I guess…"

"Yeah, and then old Herb's coaching the team!" Buzz threw in, grinning. I laughed along with the guys, shaking my head. "Yeah, I guess. A few more months of playing for Herb's not gonna hurt me. Much."

Mike Ramsey started laughing, "Wow, Mac. So you're doing it?" I nodded and grinned, "I guess I am! As long as people come with me!" Buzz smiled and got up to go to the showers. "Course we're coming with you!"

I pulled off my skates and hockey pants. Steve Christoff walked over to me and tossed me a roll of medical tape. "You might want some of this. You know who I heard's gonna be there?" I leaned back. "No, who?"

Eric Strobel whistled. "Remember back in '76?" I nodded, "Yeah, I remember." Eric stood up and leaned against his locker. "There's supposed to be a couple of guys from there." I rolled my eyes, "It's not going to be that bad. Those guys aren't that tough." I pulled my pants off and wrapped a towel around my waist.

"Oh? Ok, Mac." I walked over to the showers, "Don't try to discourage me, it won't work!" Everyone laughed and we all went and took our showers.


	2. Chapter 2: Tryouts

_I would like to start with thanking the people who have reviewed! All the reviews have been positive and encouraging, thank you! So, I'll continue on with the story, asking people to once again read and review. But I would like to say, since I wasn't around in 1980, that some lyrics might be from today, just because of the meaning. Ok, here it is! _

* * *

Jack pulled his bag out of the car. He looked up and saw the rest of the boys waiting for him. He smiled and slammed the door shut. "Coming, OC? You're taking forever!" Rizzo yelled. Jack jogged over to them. "I'm coming! God, looks like a lot of people, huh?" 

"Yeah. And we have to sign in, too. Let's GO OC!" Silk whined. The other boys laughed and ran inside like kids running into a toy store. Inside was a huge crowd of young men between the ages of 18 and 25, waiting to register and get on the ice.

"Hey Buzz!" someone called out. "Hey OC! How've you been?" another yelled over the noise and chaos. Men who had played pee wee or highschool hockey together saw each other and chatted as they waited to be registered.

There were players from all over the Eastern/Central United States; Boston, Minnesota, Wisconsin, the list goes on and on. Jack leaned down and started to fill out his paperwork. A guy walked up beside him and starts to sign in, too.

"Name?" a worker asked him. "Ralph Cox, UNH." Jack looked up at him and grinned. "Good luck," he said as he took his gear to the locker room. Outside the locker room door, he saw Jimmy Craig standing in front of the bulletin board, looking at who had been signed up.

"Jimmy Craig!" he said as he walked up to him. Jimmy turned and gave him a small smile. "Hey OC. How's it going?" Jack shook his hand. "Good." Jimmy sighed and turned back to the board. "Is there any reason why Joey Mullen isn't on here?"

Jack smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, bout 30,000 of 'um, all sitting in his New York bank account." Jimmy raised his eyebrows. "He got a $30,000 signing bonus?" Jack shook his head. "Crazy, ain't it?"

"Yeah..." Jimmy said, sighing. Jack saw that this wasn't the right subject to talk about, so he changed it. He nodded to the board. "How's it looking?" Jimmy's face broke into a small smile. "Lot of guys from Minnesota and Boston." He walked into the locker room. Jack grinned. "Yeah, now that's gonna work," and followed him into the locker room.

* * *

Rizzo sat down on the bench in front of the cubbies where his equipment was. Sitting next to him was a guy with a frown on his face, taping a raw stick with such force Rizzo thought the blade would crack. Rizzo being Rizzo, he decided to start a conversation. 

"Hey, you're Rob McClanahan, right?" The guy sitting next to him looked up and nodded. "Yeah, I am." Rizzo smiled. "Mike Eruzione. Boston University," he said, holding out his hand. Rob nodded, shook his hand, and gave a small smile. "'76."

"76," chorused Rizzo as he started to tape up his leg pads. Trying to play for Brooks a little more, eh?" Rob shrugged. "I played for him for four years. Few more month couldn't hurt. And you?" Rizzo shrugged and ripped the tape. "Just trying to play a little more hockey."

Rob nodded. "So all your boys here?" Rizzo looked up. "Course! Think they'd miss out on this?" Rob shrugged. A smile sneaked across Rizzo's face. "Might wanna wait a day or two 'til you go up and say hi." Rob looked up, a wide grin spreading across his face.

* * *

Jimmy pulled his mask down onto his face. He tapped the ice with his stick to signal he was ready, and the USOC worker blew his whistle. One by one, the hopeful men shot their puck at him. Sticking his legs this way and that, he managed to block almsot half of them, catching the last puck with his glove. The whistle blew and he pulled his mask up. 

_"What the hell am I doing here?"_ he thought to himself as he took a drink and sprayed the water over his face._ "My game's screwed, I only know the guys from Boston.. but who's complainging? I'm not complaining. If it wasn't for my mom, I would so not be here!"_ He shook his had and turned back to the tryouts. Everyone was standing around, drinking from their water bottles and talking.

"Hey Jimmy. How you holding up?" Rizzo said as he skated up to him with the group of Boston players. Jimmy shrugged. "Okay, I guess.I don't know why I let you guys convince me to come." Jack shook his head. "Us? It wasn't just us, it was your dad too, you know."

"Admit it though, Jimmy. You're having fun, and you know it," David Silk said, nudging him in the ribs with his elbow. THe boys all laughed. "You're right, I guess I am having fun," Jimmy said, nodding. Silky tapped him on the top of his head. "See? I told you!" The boys laguhed again.

One of the trainers blew a whistle, signaling the time to get back to work. Jack groaned, "More wor?" Jimmy slapped his legs with his stick. "If this is what tryouts are like, imagine being on the team!" Jack rolled his eyes and skated off. Jimmy pulled down his mask and went back to work.

* * *

Mark Johnson skated to the red line. Gasping from the obsticale course he had just skated through, he stood waiting for the trainer to tell him what to do next. The trainer skated up to him, dropping a puck at his feet.

"You're going to try to score. Those two guys are playing defense. Got it?" Mark nodded and hooked the puck with his stick. The trainer blew his whistled and Mark skated forward.

The two defensemen-one from Boston, one from Minnesota- started towards him. He dodged around the Minnesotan quickly and spun around the Bostonian. He broke away towards the net and slipped the puck through the goalies legs. He grinned in satisfaction and skated back to the red line.

"Good job, Johnson," thre trainer said to him, tapping him on the helmet with his glove. "By the way, I saw your performance at the NCAA championship a couple of years ago. Good job." Mark blushed and mumbled "Thank you."

Suddenly a whistle blew. "Ok boys!" Yelled a trainer. "Go get changed and report to the seats over there." He said, motioning to a section of seats. The plaers all skated off the ice to the locker rooms, laughing and yelling.

"Hey Mark!" Someone yelled to him. He turned to see Bob Suter skating up to him. "How you doing?" Mark smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Alright, I guess. How bout you?"

"I'm doing ok," he stepped off the ice. "You nervous?" Mark followed him. "A little. But what's the worst that could happen?" He stepped in front of Bob into the locker room. Bob looked after him. "Yeah. What's the worst?"

* * *

The hopeful hockey players filed into the seats, hair wet and in their warm-up clothes. Standing in the front of the players was a man with reddish hair and another older man with white hair and glasses. 

"Hey everyone. good job today," the man said. "I'm Craig Patrick, I'll be your assistant coach if you make the team." He held up a clipboard. "Here's the roster for now, good luck to all of you."

A wave of tension rippled through the group of hockey players as the names were read off.

"Hughes, Ross, Auge, Delich, Hovsch, Strobel, Christoff, Morrow, Suter, Ramsey, Janaszak, Christian, Pavelish, Verchota, Baker, Harrington, Schnieder, O'Callahan, McClanahan, Silk, Johnson, Craig, Cox, Eruzione, and that's the roster for now. The rest of you, thank's for coming out."

Sighs of relief and disappointment echoed from the players. The ones that had made it congradulated each other as the rejected players filed out of the arena to go back home.

"Take a good look, gentlemen. Cause they're the ones getting off easy." The boys turned aorund in their seats to see who was speaking. A man was starting to walk down the stairs. "I'm keping a few of you on reserve in case one of you gets hurt or your game goes to hell." The guys went silent as Coach Herb Brooks walked down the steps.

"The final roster will have 20 names on it. You give me 99 you'll make my job very, very easy." He reached the front area by Coach Patrick and Doc and turned around to face the boys. "I'll be your coach, I won't be your friend. You want one of those, take it up Coach Patrick, or Doc." With that, he walked away down the steps to the locker rooms.

One of the players whistled low. Everyone turned back to Coach Patrick. "Well, congradulations to all of you. On your way out, you need to pick up one of these. You got a little homework, before you celebrate." Laughs rang out from the group. There was silence for a few moments, and Coach Patrick gave them all a little smile. "You guys are dismissed." Everyone walked out of the arena, laughing and whooping.


	3. Chapter 3: Why'd you wanna play hockey?

_Thank you for the reviews! Here's the next chapter! _

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The Boston boys walked into the bar, laughing at a joke Ralph Cox had just told. They walked to a table and sat down. "Hey waitress, two pitchers over here!" Silk called out. They pulled out their "tests" from their pockets and tossed them in front of them.

Jack picked his up and flicked through the thick pages. He whistled. "Oy, 35 pages, boys. Check it out." The other guys picked up their own tests and opened them up. David Silk flicked to a random page. "You're stopped by the police but you know you're not at fault. Do you state your disagreement right away?" He sighed, "He's got about 500 of these."

"It's just a test, Silky. You've taken one or two before," Rizzo said, taking a sip of his drink. "Not to play hockey I haven't!" David replied loudly.

"Can you even read, Silky?" Jack asked. "I try," David said with a laugh. Everyone else at the table started laughing along with him. Alternating drinking and writing the boys slowly made progress on their tests.

"Hey Rizzo!" Someone called out. The boys looked up from their test. Rob McClanahan had just walked in with a group of his Minnesotan friends.

"Mac," Rizzo said, nodding in greeting. Rob walked off with his friends to the Minnesota tables. Jack looked after him with a scowl on his face. He turned back to the table, all tensed up. "Easy big boy," Rizzo said cautiously. "Let it go."

"What's going on here?" Ralph asked. David nodded over to Mac. "OC's got a little unfinished business over there."

"Not for long I haven't," Jack said softly before looking back down at his test. Rizzo looked slightly unnerved. "Hey, what'd I tell you man?" Jack looked up. "Let it go," Rizzo whispered. Ralph took a sip of his drink. "You're not still going on about the seventy-six playoffs now? Oh, come on OC that was like three years ago."

"You know what; let me ask you something Coxie. Why'd you wanna play college hockey?" Jack asked tauntingly. Ralph smiled. "Isn't it obvious? For the girls!" The other boys laughed, all except for Jack. "I'm serious Coxie. Why'd you wanna play college hockey?"

"Because I love to play, a'ight? I wanna go to the NHL someday, just like everyone else," he said slightly annoyed. "Well, I wanted to win a national championship," Jack replied loudly. "That pansy over there cheap shots me. I get tossed out of the game. He steals the ring right off my finger? How'd you feel?"

"Hey, everyone was throwing cheap shots that night!" Rizzo said defensively. Jack glared at him. "You know, Rizzo it's funny you say that. I was just wondering who's side you're on."

"I'm on your side!" Rizzo responded, slightly offended. Jack leaned back in his chair and threw his pen at Rizzo. "You know it really seems that way."

"Dude, just chill out, a'ight?" David said. Jack sniffed. "I'm not doing this now. I'm outta here," he said picking up his test and starting to walk away. "Hey, where you going?" Rizzo asked.

Jack stopped and turned back to Rizzo. "To my room. Is that alright? Mother?" He turned away again and stalked out of the bar, slamming the door behind him.

The other boys just looked after him. "Just let him go," David said, shaking his head. The boys all groaned and turned back to their tests.

"That must be why the guy's got so many penalty minutes, eh?" Ralph asked. David looked up and smiled softly. "Yeah, he gets carried away sometimes." The boys all laughed softly.

"Listen to this, boys," Rizzo said, smiling after a few mintues of only the scratching of pens. "Your girlfriend wants you to take her out on Thursday night. The problem is that you have hockey practice that same night, and you can't reschedule it. What do you do?" He shook his head.

"You thinking about Caroline back home?" Jimmy Craig asked. Rizzo leaned back and smiled. "Yeah, I guess I am." Ralph laughed. "Must be a special girl, eh Rizzo?"

"Yeah, she's pretty special," he said. The boys smiled and thought about their own girls back home. Jimmy laughed quietly. "I guess this is going to change us forever, eh boys?" All of them nodded. They finished their tests, every once in a while bringing up a funny question. They all left and went to their new rooms for some well-deserved rest.

As Ralph lay in bed that night, though, a question kept bothering him. He whispered it over and over in the dark, trying to find the answer. "Why **did** I want to play hockey?"

* * *

Jack stalked back to his room. He slammed the door shut, and -seeing that his roommate wasn't around -turned on the radio and started blasting music. He threw his test down on the table and flopped down on his bed.

"What the hell am I doing here?" He asked himself out loud. _'Because you wanted to,'_ his mind responded to him. As he lay on the bed, his thoughts battled back and forth. Finally, Jack had had enough. He got off the bed and turned the radio off.

Jack walked into the main room and paced back and forth in the room. That one question. Why was it bothering him so much? "Why do I play hockey?" He asked himself. _'Of course, there's the hitting and the energy and the thrill,' he thought to himself. 'But why do I love it? Why do I love the damn sport?'_

Jack stole a look at the clock. 11:32, Rizzo should be home by now. He picked up the phone and dialed his room.

"Hey Rizzo? Can I talk to you?"


	4. Chapter 4: Practice, Day 1

_Sorry it took me so long to get the next chapter out, I've been really busy. So, here it is. Read, Enjoy, and Review! _

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"Pick it up boys!" Coach Herb screamed at the men on the ice performing a break out drill. The six men took the puck from one side of the ice to the other. The offense shot the puck at the net. Mark Johnson switched from defense to offense, took t he puck and charged towards the opposite net.

"Pass it to Buzz, Johnson!" Coach creamed out. Mark dodged around a defenseman and continued his charge. "Okay, Johnson. Then hit him on the other side!" Coach Herb called out. Once again Mark ignored him and dodged the last player. "Come on, Johnson!" Herb yelled exasperated as Mark jerked around the goalie and popped the puck into the back of the net.

Coach Herb blew his whistle. "Johnson!" He yelled at Mark. Mark looked up at him and stopped. "That coast-to-coast stuff may work here, but it won't against the teams we'll be playing!" Mark hung his head sheepishly. "Okay, coach." he said and skated off to the bench. "Okay, next line up!" Herb yelled.

"Mark!" Coach Patrick called to him as he skated over. Mark looked up from the ice. "Don't let him get you down." Mark nodded and sat on the bench, taking a drink from his water bottle. As the other boys came on the ice, the lines changed. Jack –seeing Rob get off the bench- got up. "I'll take this one, Bob," he said and jumped down onto the ice and got in position.

"Remember, boys. This is a break out drill, so please get rid of the puck early." Coach Herb said. "Okay, here we go!" He flicked the puck in and set the boys in motion. Rob skated towards the puck and scooped it up with his stick.

Jack glared at Rob and lined him up. Before Rob knew what was going on, Jack shoved a rough, hard hip check into him, sending Rob sprawling on the ice. Rob rolled onto his elbows and knees while a large group of players stood around them. "What the hell you hitting like that for, man?" Phil Verchota asked.

"Nice hit, OC," a couple of the Boston boys called out. Jack smirked down at Rob on the ice. "Tell your friend to keep his head up and he'll be fine."

That's when Rob snapped. "Let's go!" He said standing up and throwing his gloves down. Jack dropped his gloves and sticks and the two boys just went at each other, the others cheering on his man and cat-calling the other. When someone neutral tried to pull them apart, the ones that knew what was going on told them to lay off.

"Craig, let 'em go," Coach Herb said when Coach Patrick went to break it up. The two boys exchanged punches for almost ten minutes, when Jack sent Rob sprawling on the ground with a hard punch, getting on top of him. That's when the others decided to pull them apart. Coach Herb watched in silence, and then spoke.

"Well gentlemen," he said when everyone had calmed down a bit, "does this look like hockey to you?" The boys remained silent. "Kind of looks like two monkeys trying to hump a football to me, what do you think, Craig?" The assistant coach seemed a little taken aback. "Yeah," he responded. Coach Herb turned back to the boys. "If you're here to settle old rivalries, you're on the wrong team!"

He paused, looking from Rob to Jack to the rest of the boys standing around. He slowly skated around in small circles. "Skating… Flow… creativity. **That** is what this team is about. NOT old rivalries." He glanced around at the boys. "So why don't we say a little about each other? Who you are, where you're from?" He nodded towards Rob. Rob shook his head. _'This is retarded'_ he thought to himself.

"Rob McClanahan. St. Paul, Minnesota," he said, a slight scoff in his voice. Coach nodded. "Who do you play for?" Rob motioned towards Coach. "For you, here at the U." Coach Herb nodded and turned to Jack.

"Jack O'Callahan," he said after a second. "Charleston, Mass. Boston University." A scowl was posted on his face showing his annoyance. Coach Herb nodded again and turned to Ralph. "Over here." Ralph looked up in surprise. "I'm Ralph Cox. I'm from wherever it ain't gonna get me hit." The boys laughed. "Very good," Herb said. "Ok, everyone on the red line.

The boys skated and stood on the red line, separated into groups according to where they went to college. Coach Herb noticed and smiled to himself. He pointed to Jack, then to Rob. "You two, over there," he said and pointed to an area behind him. He continued to pair the boys off, telling them to stand together. No two men were from the same college.

Coach Herb skated to Coach Patrick and Doc. He whispered something to them and they both nodded. "Okay boys. Everyone untie their skates, but don't take them off." Confused, the boys bent over and untied their skates. Then Coach Herb, Patrick, and Doc walked around tying the laced of one of the skates to one of their partner's. When the boys were all tied together, the older men walked back by Herb and waited to see what would happen.

"Now, I want all of you to try to go into your "little groups." Coach Herb said smiling. The boys looked at each other, shrugged, and started to skate into their groups. As they were tied together, they all toppled to the ice. _'What the hell?'_ All of them though as they tried to get up without the help of the person they were tied to.

"Come on boys, help each other!" Herb said, trying to hide his grin. Many of the ones trying to avoid trouble looked at each other and obeyed. The stubborn ones struggled to get to their feet by themselves. After a while, however, they gave up being stubborn and just helped each other up.

"Now, I want you to skate down to the other end of the ice. Go on now!" Herb called out. The boys struggled forward, trying not to fall. After a few strides forward, most of the boys toppled over, some laughing, some getting angry and frustrated. They struggled back onto their feet and slowly made their way across the ice.

Once they had reached the other side and then skate back, Herb skated in front of them. "Now tell the person next to you who you are and where you're from." The boys obliged and mumbled it to each other. Herb nodded. "Now tell them what sport you play."

"HOCKEY!" Shouts rang out around the arena. Coach Herb's smile slowly disappeared. "Boys, you aren't all that different. You all play the same sport, and you all play for the same team." He looked at the men in front of him. "You are all here to play one game, and only on one team. There aren't seven different teams under the supervision of coaches." The boys all considered his words. "You're dismissed," he said, ad skated off the ice.

The boys looked at each other. "He's right," Mark Johnson finally said and untied his skates from David Silk's. The other boys followed his lead and skated to the locker rooms to change.


	5. Chapter 5: Sweat, Blood, and Puke?

_Sorry it took me so long to get the next chapter out. I've been busy. Well, anyways. I feel a little bad about this chapter, but I guess it adds some action to the story. So, anyways, enjoy. And thank you to those who review my stories! Mean's a lot to me! _

* * *

Jack took a drink from his water bottle and swished it around his mouth. He spat it out on the ice and then sprayed the water over his face. He looked around at the other players doing the same during their break. He shook his head and skated over to the other "Bostonians" as the guys from Boston U were now being called. "Hey boys."

David Silk was lying on his back on the ice, Jimmy was leaning on the glass, Rizzo was sitting on the boards, and Jack went to stand near David's head. He scraped some ice on David's face. "How're you feeling? Tired?" He said, laughing at him. David looked up at him. "Tired, dead, I feel like I'm going to barf," he covered his face with his arm for protection against the flying ice chunks. The boys laughed and then the whistle blew.

As the group returned to the drills they were doing, Jack skated over to Rizzo. "Hey, is Silky feeling okay? He looks kinda… ugh." Rizzo looked over at David. Sure enough, instead of being red from all the skating, his face looked really pale. His eyes were dull as he watched the others skate through a drill, and his shoulders seemed to sag. Rizzo cringed. "Yeah, you're right. We'll ask him after practice," he punched him lightly in the arm and skated to his group. "Don't worry 'bout it, I'm sure he's fine."

Jack nodded, took another look at David, and then skated off to his own group. _'Don't worry about it, he'll be fine.' _Jack thought as he hooked the puck in his stick and got back to work.

* * *

David skated away from the bench and stood watching the drill line before his. When he said he felt like he was about to puke, he really meant it. He'd had trouble sleeping last night. He kept waking up feeling clammy and ill. He'd gone in the bathroom once and thrown up, which was hard because he didn't want to wake up his roommate Mark. David shook his head and the nausea slowly faded.

David was jarred from his little world by the whistle signaling his line's turn to run the drill. He nodded to his teammates and hooked the puck with his stick and passed it to Pav. He wove his way through the defense to the front of the net.

He watched as Pav passed the puck to Eric Strobel. Eric sent a saucer pass to David, and David received the pass and smoothly jabbed it in between the post and Jimmy's pads. He skated around the net and back to his teammates, tapping them on the head quietly in congratulations and they moved on to the next drill.

As David stood in line to wait for his turn at the drill, he caught Rizzo's eye. Rizzo gave him a questioning look that clearly said, "What's wrong? You look sick." David just shook his head and gave a small reassuring smile. Rizzo's forehead creased in a frown, but he nodded and looked back at Coach Patrick giving them a run-down of the drill they were going to do.

David sighed and skated out for his turn on the course. The whistle blew and he skated backwards from the red line to the blue line. He spun around and did crossovers from where he was to halfway down the line. He dodged around some cones, picked up a puck, skated around the net, and sent a back hand shot past the goalie's outstretched hand. He gave a small smile and skated back to the line to finish the drills.

* * *

Rizzo sat on the bench and watched David as he quietly put his stuff in his locker, grabbed his duffle bag and stood to leave. His question couldn't wait any longer. "Hey Silky," he called him over. David looked up and walked over to him. "Yeah?" He looked really tired.

"David, what's wrong? You look awful." Rizzo asked with concern in his voice. Jack and Jim glanced up, and then looked down at what they were doing, still listening closely. David sighed. "Nothing, I'm fine." Rizzo shook his head. "It's not nothing, Silky. You're as white as the ice is out there. Now tell me. What's wrong?"

"Rizzo, I'm fine. I'm just tired, alright? Stop worrying about me and start worrying about yourself!" David said, loud and angry. With that he turned and stalked out of the locker room. Rizzo sighed and looked over to Jack and Jim. Jack just shrugged and tied his shoes. Jim sighed and shook his head.

Rizzo wouldn't take that as an answer. He got up and walked over to his roommate, Mark. "Hey Mark, have you noticed anything weird about David?" Mark looked up and sighed. "Actually, yeah." Rizzo sat down next to him. "Like what?"

"Well, he's had trouble sleeping. I can hear it from my bed. And last night I heard him throwing up in the bathroom." He looked up at Rizzo, a small glint of worry in his eyes. "Do you think he's sick?" Rizzo shrugged. "I don't know. But I'm going to try to get him to talk to Doc." He clapped Mark on the shoulder. "Thanks, man." Mark nodded as Rizzo walked over to Jack and Jim. "Boys, since we can't get David to tell us, we're going to have to take him to Doc ourselves. We'll go over to his room later and drag him there." Jack grinned. "I'll bring the hockey bag."

* * *

David threw his bag on the floor and turned on the light. He flopped down on the bed and sighed. "God, I'm so damn tired!" He mumbled out loud. Rizzo and the rest of the guys kept telling him he should take a few days off. That he was sick. _'What do they know?' _He thought and closed his eyes.

Maybe he was a little sick. So? That wasn't going to stop him from practicing. He wasn't going to get stuck on the cut list just because of a little cold. No. He wasn't going to skip practice because of that.

A wave of nausea spread through him as he sat up on the edge of the bed. He put his arm on his stomach and leaned over. _'Don't you dare,' _He thought to himself. Slowly it went away and he stood up. He shook his head and cleared it. He walked into the living room and turned on the TV.

Mark had been watching the news again. He sighed and reached to change the channel. All of a sudden, a hockey clip came on and he retracted his arm. He listened to the TV reporter for a while, and then realized that it was footage from the team's practice the other day. _'What the hell?' _

"Yes, that's right folks. This is the US team at work. As you can see, there's a lot of talent coming from the young players. Players such as Jack O'Callahan, Mark Johnson, and David Silk. Goalies Steve Janaszak and Jim Craig. They may be young, but they are very promising…" the news announcer went on as David watched in awe. They ran a clip of him scoring a goal and him having a conversation with the Boston boys.

Another wave of nausea passed over him. This time he couldn't control it. He slapped his hand over his mouth and ran to the bathroom. He dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and let it go. He sat for about 10 minutes, just throwing up until he felt better.

When he was done, he wiped his mouth and sighed. _'God, I feel like I just puked my guts out.'_ He stood to flush the toilet and noticed blood in it. "Oh God, I think I did!" He said in shock. He fell to his knees again and passed out.

* * *

"Okay boys, let's go. Jack! I told you to leave that bag behind!" Rizzo said, rolling his eyes. Jack sniggered and put the bag back in the car.

They climbed the stairs quietly and knocked softly on David's door. They waited a moment, and then Jack banged on it harder. After they got no response Jim sighed. "Face it, he isn't going to open it." Jack nodded. "Yeah, let's go."

Rizzo pushed open the door and knocked on the wall inside. "Silky, you in here?" They heard the TV on, and they walked into the living room. Not seeing David in there, they looked around.

"The lights are on over there," Jim said, walking over to the bathroom. He looked inside. "Oh God!" He said loudly, and he rushed in. Jack and Rizzo ran in after him. There was David, lying on the floor unconscious.

"Oh shit!" Rizzo heard Jack say. Rizzo got down on his knees and rolled David on his back and checked his pulse. "He's okay. Let's just get him outta here." Together, Jack and Rizzo managed to get him in a sort of sling in their arms. "Jim, go get the car and bring it to the door," Rizzo ordered. Jim nodded and disappeared quickly.

"He's going to be alright, Jack. Don't worry," he reassured Jack, more likely reassuring himself. Jack just nodded. They heard Jim honk the horn and they carefully carried David quickly down the stairs.

Once in the car, they drove quickly to the health center on the USOC campus. Rizzo ran in and got Doc while Jim and Jack carried him in. Rizzo ran back with Doc close behind him.

"Put him in here," Doc said, leading the way into a room. They carried him in and put him on a bed. A couple of nurses showed up to help him. Doc showed them a room with a few chairs in it. "You wait here." Seeing the fear in their eyes, he reassured him. "He will be fine, don't worry." Then he ran back into David's room.

The boys looked at each other and sat down on separate sides of the room. They sat in silence for an hour, just staring off into space. After a while, they began to feel helpless. "He's-he's going to be alright, right?" Rizzo asked quietly. Jack and Jim looked up at him. Then Jim stood and walked over to sit next to Rizzo. He put a hand on his shoulder. "He'll be fine." He looked over at Jack.

Jack stood, walked over to them and sat on the other side of Rizzo. He put his hand on his back. "Yeah, he'll be fine." Rizzo looked at them and smiled. He nodded as a tear fell slowly down his cheek.

* * *

"What the hell?" David mumbled as he started to wake up, realizing he wasn't in his room.

"Hey! He's awake!"

"Shut up, Rizzo. We're probably the last people he wants to see," he hears someone say. He smiled as he opened his eyes. "That's bullshit. Hey boys, what's up?" He looked from Rizzo with a large grin on his face, to Jim with a small smile, and Jack with his smartass grin.

"Glad to see you're up. How are you feeling?" Rizzo asked. David shrugged. "I guess I'm okay. Just really sore. I feel like I got smacked by a stick one hundred times." The boys laughed. "So what did Doc say?" Rizzo looked at Jack, who sighed. "He said you're stuck in bed for a week, and there's no hockey for ten days."

David rolled his eyes. "Hey, it could be worse. What's wrong with me, anyways?" David squinted at the board next to his bed. "'Overworked.' Brilliant." Jim gave a small smile. "Like you said, could be worse."

David nodded. He sighed. "I'm sorry guys. 'Specially to you, Rizzo. I shouldn't have blown up at you." The guys smiled at him, and Rizzo patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry 'bout it. Just get better soon. Someone needs to look after Mark." David laughed. Glancing up at the clock, he shook his head. "You guys better get going. Practice starts soon. Don't want Herb to bite your head off."

The boys stood to leave. "See you, Silky." Jimmy said. "Get better soon. I'll send some guys down later." David nodded and waved as they walked out of the room.

After they closed the door, he smiled to himself. "Sweat, blood, and tears?" He whispered. "Naw, more like sweat, blood, and puke."


	6. Chapter 6: Legs Feed the Wolf

_Ugh.. sorry for the delay, I've been soo busy! But here's the chapter, and I promise that the next one will be awesome! Enjoy!_

* * *

A little over a week after Silky's incident, the boys trudged into the locker room. OC yawned. "Ugh, I hate early morning practices."

Buzzy looked up at OC and rolled his eyes. "Get over it. In Minnesota, we had 6AM practices." OC scowled at the shorter player.

"Guys, behave. We haven't even gotten… onto… the.. ice…" Rizzo's voice slowly trailed off.

Buzzy walked up behind him. "You alright Rizzo?" Buzzy dropped his voice, too. He smiled and shook his head at the sight in the locker room. OC followed close behind.

"Hey boys!" There, sitting on the bench, grinning his ass off was David. He stood up with his helmet in hand and walked over to them. "Ready for practice?"

"SILKY!" Rizzo yelled and threw his arms around him. OC and Buzzy followed suite. "I thought you weren't supposed to be playing?" Rizzo said as he backed off, raising his eyebrows.

"Eh, Doc let me go early," Dave shrugged. "As long as I take it easy." His face was still bright with his adorable smile.

"You better take it easy," Rizzo said seriously.

OC nodded and clapped Dave on the shoulder. "Yeah man. It wasn't the same, taking on Herb without you."

Silky put his helmet on. "Don't worry, I will." Buzzy slapped him the top of his head, standing on the tips of his toes to reach. "See you out there, Silky." Silky nodded and walked out onto the ice.

As he glided around on the ice, skating faster and faster, he closed his eyes; the air ruffled his brown hair. Smiling, he sighed. _'It's good to be back,' _he thought to himself. After being off his skates for over a week, he needed to come back.

As the rest of the team staggered tiredly onto the ice, their eyes lit up at the sight of their now-healthy teammate. They skated over and talked to him in hurried, hushed voices. Rizzo had told them what had happened. They were overjoyed at the fact that their friend and teammate was back to normal.

Jack, Rizzo, and Jimmy stood off to the side in their equipment. Jack with his smart-ass grin, Rizzo with his sweet, genuine smile, and Jimmy with his calm, conservative one.

"He seems happy to be back," Jimmy said, whole heartedly. Rizzo nodded. "The guy's a hockey player, no doubt in my mind."

"Yeah," Jack agreed quietly, "he is."

Herb and Craig stepped out onto the ice. The boys promptly stopped talking and looked over to them for instructions.

Herb looked over them. "Morning boys," he pointed to the circle at center ice. "Stretch out, today's going to be tough. Rizzo!" Rizzo glanced up, startled. "You're leading the stretches today. Let's go boys!"

Some guys groaned as they skated to stand around the circle. Herb grabbed David as he skated by. He looked up, surprised. Herb gave him a small smile. "Welcome back, Silky." David smiled as Herb tapped his helmet and skated off to the circle with the others.

* * *

"Blue line back, red line back. Far blue line back, far red line back; and you have forty-five seconds to do it." The boys were lined up on the goal line, while Herb was skating back and forth in front of them. "Get used to this drill; you'll be doing it a lot."

"Why?" Herb looked them in the eyes. "Because, the legs feed the wolf, gentlemen." He sighed. "I can't promise you we'll be the best team at Lake Placid, but we will be the best condition; that I can promise you."

**TWEET! **The whistle blew and the boys pushed off their blades. They skated to the blue line and quickly turned to skate back.

"Be prepared to grow through pain, boys!" Herb shouted over the scraping of their skates. Back and forth they skated. When they finished one, the whistle blew and off they skated again.

After fifteen minutes, the boys were all doubled over with their hard breathing. When the whistle didn't blow, they glanced up to see Craig and Herb talking.

Finally Herb looked over at them. "Go ahead and take a break, boys. I and Coach Patrick need to go take care of some business." The boys watched quietly as Craig and Herb left the arena.

The boys glided over to the bench, thankful for a break. Grabbing their water bottles, they drank thirstily.

Silky sprayed his water at Rizzo. "Little tired, Rizzo?" Rizzo responded by rolling his eyes and spitting the water in his mouth at him. Silky laughed and took a drink.

The team stood in clumps around the bench; laughing, talking and watching each other acts out little scenes.

Silky suddenly remembered something. "You guys, the night I got sick, I saw something on the TV." He recalled seeing the clips of him and the other players, the narration about the young men, and some of the other things shown on the news. "Do you think Herb let them in?"

Jack shook his head. "Herb doesn't want us to tell anyone about how we train, so he definitely wouldn't invite some camera guy in here himself."

"OC's right for once," Rizzo said, dodging the swing of Jack's gloved fist. "Maybe someone's sneaking in or something.

Jimmy shrugged. "I think you're right, Rizzo. Maybe some person they're paying, or someone who got booted off the team."

"Yeah," Silky said. "But maybe Herb did give them a little bit of footage."

"Let's not draw any conclusions, guys," Rizzo said in pure Rizzo style. "We might be wrong."

"Yeah, that's it," Jimmy said as Herb and Craig walked back out onto the ice to continue on with the hard drills.

"Uggh…" Jack groaned as they returned to skating.

Outside of the rink, those who walked on the sidewalk could hear the shouts and whistles from inside on the ice.

"C'mon boys! The legs feed the wolf!"


	7. Chapter 7: An Unwanted Spectator

They days blended together into weeks, which joined together into to months. The team dropped players about every two weeks. You never knew if you were going to be the next.

Soon, their first game was in one week.

Herb was working them hard; he wanted them to be in the best shape of their lives when they went to play Norway. The drills became harder, the days grew longer, and the nights shorter. If Herb had anything to say about it; they were going to win.

Not only was Herb cracking down on the young men, but so were the press. Somehow, word got out about arguments on the ice, more footage of them playing was being sent out, and everywhere the boys went, it seemed someone was watching them.

Some of them had had enough.

one day before practice, Jack stormed into the locker room, a copy of the morning's local paper in hand. He just radiated fury.

"Oy, OC. What's wrong?" Silky questioned as the defenseman threw the paper down on a little table in the middle of the locker room. The boys all got up to look at it.

"This!" Jack barked. "They came in and snooped around. Again!" They all crowded around the table as Rizzo picked up the paper and started to read it out loud.

"TENSION RISES

We all know the US Hockey team is doubted to win a medal, but can they even win their first game?

This past week, tempers have been short. Maybe it's because head coach Herb Brooks is running them so hard? Whatever it is, the team needs to learn more self-discipline than how to handle the puck.

Last Monday after running –and fumbling –a play, Jack O'Callahan seemed to lose control of his emotions and started pounding on the boards in a furious rage. Insiders say that's just O'Callahan nature, but readers think it's extremely uncalled for, even in the world of hockey. If he's like this in practice, what will he be like in a game?"

Rizzo's voice dropped out as he shook his head. "This is getting out of control. It needs to stop."

Buzzy looked down at the picture of Jack in his "rage" and laughed. "Wonderful picture, OC." He just barely dodged the roll of tape Jack threw.

"And for the record," Jack retorted, "I was not in a rage. I was just frustrated, that's all."

"Sure, if you say so, OC," Silky said, teasingly. Once again, a roll of tape went flying.

* * *

The boys skated hard that day. Not because of their thirst to prove themselves to Herb, but to prove themselves to the press that they weren't juvenile young men. No, they weren't going to the Olympics with that kind of reputation.

For Jack, it was unusual for something like this to upset him. He always earned a reputation as a tough, hot-headed player on all the teams he's ever played on. This was a weird thing.

The whistle finally blew, and the boys trudged off the ice.

"Look," Silky said, nudging Rizzo with his elbow. Rizzo looked up to where Silky was pointing and smiled to himself. Up in the top row of the stands, crouching down, was a man with a camera and a tape recorder.

"We'll go take care of that after we change," Rizzo said, smirking.

As the boys filed into the locker room, Rizzo whacked his stick on his locker to get everyone's attention.

"Listen up!" He shouted. "Silky's spotted the guy who's been spying on us. Everybody hurry up and change so we can go catch him. We're going to go take care of it. Humanly, leave those sticks behind, guys!"

"Aw, man!" Jack and Rob said as they put their sticks back in their lockers.

Majority of the boys decided to come, and Silky had the plan all figured out on the chalk board.

"Group A comes from the left. Group B, from the right. Let's go!" He sounded like an army general leading troops to war.

The boys quietly sneaked past Herb's office. Herb would have a fit if he found out what they were doing. Once they were past the door, they ran up the stairs to the stadium.

Rizzo took one group around to the other side, while Silky stayed with the others. Everyone got into position, waiting anxiously for the signal.

There it was!

The boys snuck in from both sides. Closing in on the unsuspecting reporter, they grabbed him.

"Let go of me!" He screamed. Jack and Bah held tightly onto the squirming man. Mark and Buzzy grabbed his equipment and lead the way back down to Herb's office.

Herb ran out at the sound of all the shouting and screaming. "What the hell's going on here?" He yelled.

Mark looked up at him and smiled. "We got the guy who's been taking pictures of us!" The man started squirming again, and Rizzo and Jimmy moved quickly to help Jack and Bah keep a hold on him.

"Bring him in here," Herb said calmly, staring at the man as they brought him into the office.

The put him in the chair and Herb nodded. "Go ahead home, boys. Get some rest; I'll take care of this."

The boys shuffled out of the room and heard Herb lock it behind them. They all started cheering and hopping around in the small hallway.

"Yes!" Silky whooped.

"We still think it would have worked better with the hockey sticks," Jack and Rob muttered.

"No!"


End file.
